


I Bet On Losing Dogs

by Hopeful Heart (lawfulgayheel)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, dont worry about when this exactly takes place It's Fine, i hate that this is a seth rollins character study, just my overpouring emotions for characters in wrestling of all things, this is all my shield feelings rolled into one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawfulgayheel/pseuds/Hopeful%20Heart
Summary: Seth Rollins doesn't believe in the phrase "you can always go home" yet he finds himself there. On the anniversary of either his biggest mistake or best business decision, Seth visits an old stomping ground and has to face the new world he created with his own hands.





	I Bet On Losing Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm releasing this into the world even though some parts only make sense to me and it is wholly dependent on a mythology of headcanons I've created. Yes, I do imply The Shield are actually werewolves in this, don't worry about it. This was extremely inspired by Funkyinfishnet's Shield fics which I've read multiple times and recommend! I feel like there are also headcanons I picked up from other fics because I sure did read the entire tag. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this love letter to this boy band wrestling stable. (Title from a Mitski song because of course it is).

It was that time of the year again. It always came faster than Seth was expecting. The weather would get hot, the air would smell like sunscreen, and the remembrance of another era would become more frequent. 

It wasn’t as easy to ignore those thoughts during the summer. Seth found himself thinking about little houses at the end of dirt roads, a king sized bed that was too small with three bodies on it, breakfast in a skillet, late nights in a car arguing over the radio. He hated those traitorous memories almost as much as he hated the fact even his memories were traitors. 

This year they’d be around that area which didn’t help anything. The anniversary wouldn’t land on a Monday or Friday, no show to be at. The hotel they were staying at was impressive as always. Seth used to feel out of place but he’d began to blend into the atmosphere of fountains in the lobby and hot tubs in the corner of his room. Now, the place he didn’t belong was at a motel with crusty bedsheets. He was a stranger in rundown convenience stores with the smell of cheap coffee and corndogs spinning and rotting in a display case. 

The soft, billowy bed in his hotel room no longer felt uncomfortable. At first, it would take him all night to fall asleep. He would get up and pace around the room but even the quality of the carpet felt wrong underneath his feet. Tonight, Seth would easily fall asleep underneath the comforter. He would not grasp pathetically at empty air or wake up panicked because he was alone in the bed.

But, that would be later. Seth wasn’t going to sit around and watch the flatscreen TV until his eyes blurred. It wasn’t like he had to ask permission to leave the hotel. Well, maybe it was suggested he tell someone when he left but it wasn’t any of Triple H’s business where he was going. Not like anyone knocked on his door to make sure he was still in there. Not anymore, anyway. As time passed the leash slacked, they trusted Seth more and more. Rather, Seth became too domesticated to ever leave. 

Seth swallowed that thought quickly. He wasn’t anyone’s dog, no matter how many times Kane said he was, no matter what anyone else thought. He was here because he wanted to be and no one could chain him to his hotel room. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, a knee jerk reaction to being so close to where it all changed. It wasn’t planned, he didn’t pencil it in on his calendar. Seth sat in his hotel room looking at the date on his phone, thinking about that little house in the middle of nowhere, and thinking about getting out of there. The paintings that were probably originals stared him down. Women with babies, landscapes with oceans and meadows and other beautiful things. He didn’t think it through as he shoved his wallet into his pocket. 

Seth realized fully what he was doing as the elevator doors closed. The thought of, “Oh god, what if I get caught,” was quickly squashed angrily. Caught doing what? He could leave the hotel if he wanted! They’d live! He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t their dog, he was their business associate. They couldn’t ban him from leaving the hotel! Well, they could but, they shouldn’t!

The twitchy feeling was uncomfortable. Worried someone he knew would get on the elevator. He cursed himself as he avoided the eye line of the front desk clerk. Running in his head were scenarios of Triple H finding him missing and asking after him. It was muscle memory, avoiding sight. Long faded memories of dodging security around arenas teased the edge of his thoughts. 

The feeling of running died down when he was a few blocks away from the hotel. He hated how he glanced up, looking for security cameras, was too acutely aware of the passing cars, worried about the other pedestrians on the sidewalks.

Now he was left with another realization: he had no car. The Authority always flew together, always took fancy cab services to the hotels. Seth most certainly couldn’t use the company card to rent a car, that’d pop up on expenses and then that’d lead to questions that he didn’t want to answer. God, he was overthinking this wasn't he? Why would anyone care if he wanted to rent a car and hit the town? But, going down that route, he’d have to come up with believable lies. Where he went, who he was with, an entire fabricated night. This was safer. Easier.

So, rental car. Shit, did he even have a credit card they didn’t have access to? This came with the territory, his entire financial presence was wrapped up with The Authority. It wasn’t a big deal, it wasn’t something Seth minded, better than counting the change in between the seat since they’d all maxed out their credit cards again. 

Debit card, they didn’t have the records for that. There, problem solved. He was a problem solver. Forget that, he was The Architect, the mastermind, he more than had this. A simple trip to the safehouse? Easy as pie. He took a deep breath, let his lungs expand and expand. Stop worrying, he told himself, just find a damn rental place.

There was no way they could get the record of his google map searches but Seth still couldn’t bring himself to search for a rental place like that. Paranoia, baseless paranoia. Like a child who didn’t want to be scolded or a dog who knew what he was doing was wrong but couldn’t stop.

Ugh, Seth had to stop thinking in dog metaphors. He wasn’t a hound anymore, he was The Man. No need for old imagery like that. Times changed, people did too. Things were different now, things were different now, things were different now. He repeated it in his head like a prayer, like thinking it over and over would make it true, or maybe undo it. Maybe it was a magic spell that would turn all those changes back. Not even Seth himself knew which one it was.

There were a couple times during his search for a car rental that he almost just went back to the hotel. His nerve was abandoning him. The spontaneous decision was starting to taste stale. Maybe it was better to just go back and pretend nothing happened. Just go to bed, forget about the idea altogether. 

But then, as if the world was encouraging him to keep with this stupid decision, Seth stumbled upon exactly what he was looking for. It occurred to him they might be closed, despite it still being light outside the hour wasn’t exactly early, but an old man sat at the counter and waved at him as he entered. Of course, now he had to keep going. 

Seth rented the most nondescript vehicle he possibly could. Unfortunately, he was in the more ritzy part of town, so of course the most nondescript didn’t scream off roader vehicle, but it was a truck at least. It was too shiny, Seth thought as he turned the keys. He’d promised the old man he’d be back before he knew it. He thought it was probably too good to be true to think he’d make it back before they closed. He’d have to deal with returning the car later. That was for future Seth to worry about. 

The next part was easy. Even from a place he didn’t know, it was easy to drive there, to the safehouse. He usually hadn’t done the driving. Roman would drive because he was the most even driver of the three of them. Dean behind the wheel was a terrifying experience. He would speed through red lights, go way over the speed limit, then suddenly hit the brake just to see what would happen. Roman would have to wrestle the keys out of Dean’s hand, telling him firmly that there was no way in hell Dean was going to drive.

Seth gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The backroads looked different. Seth hoped it was because they usually drove here at the dead of night or because he was usually distracted with Dean leaning from the backseat wrap his arms around Seth's chest. That thought made his knuckles even whiter than he thought was possible. 

Memories of the radio playing low, Roman’s laugh being an even lower rumble, Dean complaining loudly about the radio despite not even being able to hear it. Roman reaching his hand back to Dean and Seth swatting it away, telling him to keep both hands on the wheel. Dean mocking Seth, calling him a mom, calling him their worried housewife, kissing him into the ratty leather seat of whatever car they’d managed to get during gas stops. 

Maybe it was the car that was different. The cars they usually took were beat up, their wheels would screech, the engine would fire loudly. It was important to keep a low profile, it was Seth who reminded them of that the most often. If they were to be effective they had to be scarce. It had to be just them, just The Shield. No company presence at all. 

Seth felt something trickling down his chin. The taste of iron greeted him as he tried to lick his lips. The safehouse was close. No turning the car around, no chickening out. 

There it was, a little speck at the end of a dirt road in some field God forgot. He pulled in front of it, nostalgia creeping up his back. He could see Dean jump out of the car a little too enthusiastically, Roman slam the door a little too loudly. Seth swallowed. This hadn’t been a good idea. 

The metal siding, the metal roof, the single window, it all screamed safe house. Though, the window’s glass had been shattered. Seth took a deep breath as he pulled in. He could see it clearly, Dean’s arm through the glass, cursing and cursing. Roman picking out the shards of glass without saying anything. Dean yelling and yelling, angry at everyone. Probably hurled a few insults at Roman in the heat of the moment but Roman said nothing, just wiped Dean’s arms down. 

Seth didn’t want to go inside. The entire building was rejecting him already, forcing him away. He was a foreign object now, no longer recognized as a fixture of this place. Shaky legs brought him to the door, far more banged up that he remembered. 

He saw them clearly, kicking the door, throwing it open, blinded by their rage. It was probably Dean. Seth imagined Roman coming up behind him without much thought in order to get the door open. Maybe Dean jumped at the sudden movement behind him. Even if Dean took out every emotion he had on this place, anything that landed on Roman had to be an accident. 

Seth could hear the apologies, “Sorry, shit, I’m sorry,” and Roman just stroking Dean’s face as a sign of forgiveness. God, Seth wanted that, didn’t he? 

No. He didn’t. Don’t think like that, don’t let this place make you doubt yourself. Seth reached to push open the door and wondered if it’d be locked. It wasn’t, then again why would to be? This was a monument to the past. The Shield was gone, this place and all the others like it were abandoned. There was nothing left to lock in and nothing left to lock out. 

The inside was not how he left it either. Bottles shattered into pieces strewn across the concrete floor. The shitty fridge they kept was on it’s side, pulled away from the wall and the plug. The paper plates and plastic utensils they had stocked in the two wooden shelves hanging from the ceiling were scattered all over the floor with the glass. Seth was a little surprised the shelves were still intact, though one of the doors lay across the room far from its hinges. 

Dean was written all over the carnage. Ghost images of Dean ripping apart the little life they had together played as Seth numbly walked farther in. Glass crunched under his boots and he remembered laying on the cold concrete watching the metal ceiling like it was stars. Pieces of cheap plastic furniture cluttered in lumps and Seth could see Dean smashing them to the floor, screaming. 

The hole in the shape of a fist was Roman, the only sign of him Seth could find. His ghost image leaned against a wall watching Dean rampage through the place. No attempt at conversation or comfort, not in that moment. Seth really thought they would fall apart. It hurt a little to make the ghost images collide. Dean’s fist collided with Roman’s. They wrestled each other to the ground. There was no evidence for that, just the best (worst) case scenario. Seth knew deep down his earlier guess was truer to form. Still, what did they talk about that night? What did they say to each other? 

The ratty mattress they had called a bed was still in place, it seemed pristine compared to the rest of the place. No debris was gathered on it and there was even sheets still wrapped around it, clean ones at that. Something nagged at Seth as he looked that corner of the room over. Everything about this place nagged at him, it was probably nothing, just a phantom. 

Now that he was there he didn’t know what to do. What had he wanted to find here? Redemption? No, he had nothing to redeem himself from. He’d play the game - literally - and now he had everything. Wrestling was just a game. Doesn’t matter if you’re good at winning matches, doesn’t matter if you’re a good athlete, it was all about the business side of things. Justice? Funny. There was no such thing as justice.

He doesn’t need to justify his decisions to anyone but it seemed that’s all he did nowadays. It was a good business decision, it was the right business decision. Emotions had no place in something like that. They were holding him back. 

Ah, this place was pushing up all those old thoughts. All that baggage Seth had tried to drop, Dean would always pick it back up and knock him over the head with it. Could they really have been more than they ever were together? 

No, of course not, Seth had made the right call. They weren’t anything to him anyway. Just business partners. 

Who are you lying to? Seth thought, leaning against the wall, There’s no one here but you. 

A relic of the past, that’s all this place would ever be. He needed to learn when to let go. Maybe that’s why he came. A funeral for this place, a send off for all this haunting. Time to let go, right? As if it was that easy. As if he could just burn it all down. There, an actual thematic metaphor, none of that dog stuff. He’d left that behind too, as well as he could. It was as easy as leaving behind the rest of it. 

The sounds of tires on dirt road dragged Seth out of his self pitying reminiscing. Oh God, why was a car coming up the road? There was nothing down it but this place. Seth didn’t want to jump to that conclusion, that the car was coming here. Only three people knew where this was, and what it was, and one of them was already there. He heard the car park and the engine die.

No backdoors on this place, no back windows either, there was no way to get out except through the front and the car was already there. It was the drawback of this safehouse they’d argued about. Roman and Dean had gotten into a screaming match over it long after they’d purchased it. Back then, they’d find anything to fight over. Maybe Dean had a point, a safehouse you can’t escape from wasn’t very safe. 

No one knew he came here, no one even knew where this was, no matter what Dean and Roman thought. He’d never breathed a word of this place or any of the other places just like it. There hadn’t been a reason to, it was unnecessary information. He was a better secret keeper than they thought, no secret weakness passed from him to the Authority, nothing he was told late at night in whispered tones ever left his lips. Dean and Roman could think whatever they wanted about him, but he’d at least given them that common courtesy. 

No one knew so no one would be able to find him. Dean was going to kill him, really kill him, and leave his body out there and no one would find it. He’d just disappear, go missing, while his body rotted in the grass. If Dean thought he wasn’t going to go without a fight, then he was dead wrong.

“I’m telling you, I bet it’s some squatter,” Dean’s voice echoed from outside.

“Looks too fancy to be a squatter,” Roman’s voice answered back. Why were they here? This place had the telltale signs of abandonment, so why?

“Maybe someone trying to lose themselves in the wilderness?” How right was Dean, Seth wondered. 

There was no escape, no way to get out of this, he was going to die because of a stupid whim. Good going, Architect. 

Dean pushed the door open, a pack of beer in hand, “Hey, don’t worry we aren’t gonna kick you out we ju-” 

Seth couldn’t describe the expression on Dean’s face despite seeing it many times. Confusion, betaryl, disgust, anguish, something like that. 

“Hey, Roman,” Dean called behind him, still standing in the doorway, “It’s not a squatter.”

“I told you-” Roman trailed off as he stopped behind Dean. It was always worse with Roman. At least Dean hated him out loud, tried to kill him publicly. Roman just simmered quietly, the silent rage directed at him only sometimes. Seth wanted Roman to punch him, curse him, anything besides just ignoring him.

“Hey Seth,” Roman said evenly and Seth cursed himself for wincing at his name. Good thing he’s used to covering up weakness like that. Just his name could do that to him. It’d been Rollins for so long that Roman just had to call him Seth and he was freaking out. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” was the first thing out of Seth’s mouth, panicked and desperate. He hadn’t wanted to say that but it came out despite himself.

“No shit,” Dean wasn’t playing around today, not the teasing, vindictive dance they did with the cameras rolling. He wasn’t enjoying cursing Seth out, this wasn’t cathartic for him. In any other moment, Seth would be reveling in that, pleased with himself. Right now, he just felt like crap. 

“I swear, I didn’t-” Why was he trying to reassure them? Like he cared what they thought? Who are you lying to, Seth? 

“Not even you’re stupid enough to sign your own death certificate,” Dean took a step forward and Seth knew he was about to die. 

“Hey,” Roman put a hand on Dean’s back and the tension knotting in Dean’s entire body appeared to disappear. God, Seth wanted Roman to do that to him. He wanted to be touched, he was starving. Holding hands with J&J could only do so much and they of course judged him. They had no right. No one had any right to judge him. He could provoke Dean and get a punch in the face. That contact would be enough. Maybe Dean would grab him by the shirt and shake him until he saw stars.

“Wanna join us?” 

Both Seth and Dean looked at Roman with wide eyes and confusion. Roman was always doing things like this, confusing them with off the wall ideas. Dean was easier, even if he’s schemes were crazier and bigger, they were predictable in their unpredictableness. Seth knew to expect the unexpected with Dean, knew to keep on his toes, and in a way Dean followed a pattern, a familiar dance, but Roman? Sometimes he would decide something and they were both left to wonder how he decided it. 

It was nostalgic, Dean and Seth both sent off kilter by Roman. If Seth squinted it was like nothing had changed but that was desperation talking, stupid yearning. He made his choice, pretending otherwise only dug the knife in their backs deeper. 

“I can’t,” Seth broke the weird silence that had settled back on them, “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you still came here.” Why was he repeating that? Did he really care about their opinion of him? It couldn’t sink any lower than it already was. He was scum of the earth to them and always would be and that was fine. All this flip flopping, all this chasing his own tail, it was tiring. 

“We don’t,” Dean tensed again, despite Roman’s hand. Lucky bastard. “We only come here once a year.”

“The others?” Why do you care, Seth asked himself.

“Who knows, we sure as hell haven’t been there, don’t want to be ambushed.” Seth didn’t offer any protest. Dean could think he ratted them out all he wanted, didn’t bother Seth any. 

“Look, I’m going to leave, okay?” Seth offered, a peace treaty - more like a plea. He didn’t want to be there anymore and Dean didn’t want him there so why subject them both to this any longer.

“C’mon, we got chips and beer,” Roman lifted up the plastic sacks he was carrying on one hand.

“I have to drive back,” Seth was thankful for a legitimate excuse.

“Still got chips,” Roman took his hand off Dean’s back, “Go get the cooler from the car.” Dean shot a dirty look at Seth but didn’t offer any protest as he turned around and left the safehouse. How different from the months prior to the Shield’s demise. 

Dean and Roman at each others neck, constantly fighting about nothing at all. Seth didn’t want to think about it but there were a lot of things Seth didn’t want to think about he thought about anyway. He needed a cone to keep him from licking at this open wound. Keep himself from helping it fester. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Seth didn’t look Roman in the eyes, “I can just leave.”

“Nah,” Roman started pulling discarded hunks of trash into a circle in the middle of the room, “You should be here.”

“I shouldn’t,” Seth didn’t want to be here. He could do it, burn it all down right now, say something horrible, prove to Roman he wasn’t worth pitying. 

“Don’t matter,” Roman said and ended the conversation. When Roman wanted to end a conversation he could, except when Dean refused to let things drop. Seth didn’t want to push it farther, he somehow was not beaten and bloody right now and he’d like to keep it that way.

He didn’t know what to say so he just watched Roman gather two suitable seats, though he wasn’t sure if either of the pathetic plastic chairs would be able to stand under Roman’s weight with how bent their legs were.

“You coulda helped me, you know,” Dean all but announced his presence, kicking the door open with his foot, carrying a plastic bag in one hand and a cooler pressed to his chest.

“I could have,” Roman agreed, taking the cooler from Dean to add it to the semi-circle of chairs.

“Is he really staying?” Dean gestured to Seth with the plastic bag which clearly contained raw meat. Was Dean going to eat it? Roman preferred his meat cooked but Seth had never really had a preference. Dean, however, refused to eat anything cooked. He always tried to demand raw meat from poor waitresses in broken down burger joints just to see the confused and frantic look on their faces. Roman would kick him under the table and Seth would punch him the shoulder. 

It’d be been years since he tried to eat raw meat and he wasn’t sure if it’d kill him or not. Would Dean ripping into it in front of him make his stomach churn? Seth did not want to get queasy in front of them, they didn’t need anymore fuel against him. Just being here was enough fuel to last a century. 

“He’s staying,” Roman replied, already sitting on the cooler.

“I don’t have to-”

“You’re staying.”

“Whatever,” Dean took his place on the pathetic plastic chair. Thankfully, he set aside the plastic bag. 

It’s awkward, but of course it is. Roman was fooling himself if he thought they could just ignore the elephant wielding a steel chair. They couldn’t play pretend, put aside their differences for one night, no matter how much the idea somehow appealed to Seth. 

Seth watched numbly as Dean fished out two beers from the cooler and passed one to Roman. Why did they bring an uncooled pack then? It wasn’t for Seth to ruminate on, their plans didn’t have anything to do with him anymore. 

“Sure you don’t want one?” Roman offered the beer in his hand to Seth.

“Gotta drive,” Seth repeated.

“You could stay the night,” Roman offered causing both Dean and Seth to look at him with absolute shock.

“Like hell he is!” Dean looked like he was about to leap at Seth which seemed unfair since Roman was the one who had suggested that.

“I really can’t do that,” he also didn’t want to. Technically, he could lie, it was something he was good at. Tell Triple H he had gone out on the town and spent the night with someone from a bar. Triple H would high five him while Stephanie would roll her eyes. It’d be easy to get away with but Seth preferred not to take any kind of risk like that. More importantly, he would rather die than spend the night here. 

“Just a suggestion,” Roman shrugged as he cracked open the cold one. 

“A bad one,” Dean seemed to have all but forgotten about drinking, “Why would we want him here?” Roman just shrugged in response. 

They sat in silence again. Awkward, suffocating silence. Was Roman trying to punish him? Because this sure felt like a punishment to Seth. Had Dean done something to tick him off so he decided to get Dean in on the punishment action too? This was miserable. 

“Not hungry?” Roman asked, gesturing to the bag of chips and dip, to the bag of raw meat.

“Already ate,” Seth said, not lying this time. He wouldn’t eat even if he hadn’t though, that was one surefire way to throw up in front of them. Miracle his dinner was staying down. 

“Steak? Bet it was steak. All fancy, super ritzy,” Dean’s words were venomous, as always. If it was any other day, any other circumstance Seth would fire back, give Dean a show. Not right now though, right now he just wanted to be quiet and try to make it through this alive. 

“Look, really, I can leave,” Seth was desperate, almost begging Roman to let him go.

“Guess that’s like you, always ready to get away from us,” Roman said, almost without malice but completely calm. Seth felt a sharp pain in his chest.

“That’s not-”

“We’re here to honor The Shield, kind of hard when you’re here,” Dean chimed in.

“I was part of The Shield too,” Seth clenched his fist, “I-”

“Yeah, yeah, you made The Shield everything it was, we’ve heard it, Rollins.” Dean shut him down.

“Just thought you’d want to help, figured that was why you were here,” Roman said, sympathetic? No, not sympathy. Pity. 

Seth forced down “I don’t need your pity,” forced it far, far down. Still, even if he didn’t say it, Dean and Roman knew he was thinking it. They knew him, they always would. 

“The Shield is in the past,” Seth said, almost too firmly.

“You made sure of that, huh?” Dean finally opened his beer.

“I didn’t mean to intrude, this is obviously personal,” Seth stood up, daring Roman to say anything, “I’ll leave you to living in the past.” Couldn’t help himself, couldn’t just go gracefully, had to take a potshot.

“Yeah, you do that,” Dean took a swig of beer.

“See ya around then,” Roman said in the tone of voice he used when he was disappointed. Had Roman expected something from this? Did he still have hope for Seth? That thought was too much to deal with so he simply turned around and left. 

Getting there had been a big production but returning was hazy. Blearily he went through the steps. Returned the rental before they closed, was thankful he wasn’t questioned about why he needed a car for a few hours. He walked back to the hotel, didn’t meet anyone on the way back to his room.

Roman and Dean would be falling asleep in each others arms and all Seth is left with is a big bed with silk sheets. It was all worth it, wasn’t Seth? 

You can always come home, right? Not when you’ve destroyed that home Seth thought, not bothering to take his clothes off as he sunk into bed. Scorched earth, nothing left but a safe house that you didn’t belong in anymore, and two people who used to love you but don’t anymore.

Yeah, it was all worth it in the end.


End file.
